


carnalis copula contra naturam

by oxymoronic



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoronic/pseuds/oxymoronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>“... the offenders being hereof convict by verdict, confession, or outlawry, shall suffer such pains of death and losses, and penalties of their goods, chattels, debts, lands, tenements, and hereditaments as felons do, according to the order of the Common Laws of this Realme...”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> <span class="small"><i>AN ACT FOR THE PUNISHMENT OF THE VICE OF BUGGERY</i>, 1533</span><br/></p>
</div><br/><div>
  <p>In truth Childermass would not have imagined that Norrell even in his grimmest and most desperate moments would stoop to such base methods; and yet here lay the evidence of his grave miscalculation clear before him.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	carnalis copula contra naturam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlingGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlingGirl/gifts).



> my warmest thanks as ever to StarlingGirl for (amongst many things) encouraging me to write this and in fact buying me the book in the first place. this is mainly just a bit of writing practice so that I can actually get on with one of the twelve hundred things I've promised her, but, er, it sort of... got away from me a bit.
> 
> deciding to look into what life was actually like for queer people in the Regency period was one of the most depressing decisions I've ever made, but if it interests you, the resources [here](http://rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/) and [here](http://rictornorton.co.uk/eighteen/nineteen.htm) were invaluable. the law quoted in the summary is the 1533 Buggery Act, which was left more or less unaltered until 1861.
> 
> timeline-wise, this takes place firstly shortly before Strange's return to England (in February 1816) and then continues into post-canon. if you're here from the BBC show currently still airing, this therefore contains **spoilers** throughout the second half of the book. the rating is T rather than G purely because the extent of the homophobia of the period and the consequences of prosecution etc. are so severe - the content of the fic itself is G.

_December 1816_

To receive Mr Norrell’s correspondence and deal with his affairs had been Childermass’s duty since almost the inception of his service in his household, and he was so thoroughly accustomed to ensuring that Mr Norrell’s preferences were facilitated in every manner that it was rare indeed that any thing should come to pass under the roof of Hurtfew Abbey or Hanover-square with which he was not entirely acquainted.1 But Childermass had not been present in Mr Norrell’s house at the point of Henry Woodhope’s arrival, and over the past few years Lascelles had become sufficiently skilled at hiding such intimacies from Childermass that it was some days later before he became aware of his purpose there.

Childermass was not then certain which caused him the greater offence: that he had been so crudely excluded from any knowledge of Strange’s wellbeing, or that Norrell and Lascelles had purposed to send Drawlight to Venice instead of him. Childermass was not, of course, unaware of how Lascelles would have persuaded Norrell into pursuing this course of action, and the likely accusations the man would have made against him to ensure its occurring. But he was more thoroughly enraged by the understanding that if Norrell did not think to send him, then Norrell did not intend to offer Strange any sort of help; for surely Drawlight could be of no assistance in what was obviously a magical predicament.

It was not Childermass’s habit to keep his opinions from Norrell when he thought them beneficial to his master’s purposes, and thus in spite of the lateness of the hour he immediately sought out his company, in deliberate disregard of Norrell’s customary unhappiness at the interruption of his studies.

Their argument was by no means brief. Childermass at first allowed Norrell to explain the logic of his actions, but grew increasingly incensed on the confirmation that his master fully intended to abandon the other magician to misery in his entrapment. This seemed to him an undeserved cruelty regardless of their recent disputes, but whenever he expressed any such sympathy to Strange’s infirmity Norrell would become quite agitated and reiterate for some time that Childermass’s duty was to his person and in his house. Childermass bore this diatribe for some time, until at last he coolly remarked that if Mr Norrell intended in future to conceal from him such happenings he was quite uncertain as to how he was meant to execute said duty.

Norrell then fell into a brief and fuming silence. They were indeed no strangers to quarrelling in one another’s company, but it had become obvious even to Norrell in all his wilful ignorance that their arguments were becoming far more thick and frequent of late. “You would go to Venice, then,” Norrell eventually said. “You wish to offer aid to such an enemy! – of myself and of the country!”

Childermass seemed quite unswayed by Norrell’s brief attack of patriotism. “The man is clearly ill,” he said. “You cannot wish to see him so unmade.”

“He is grieving,” Norrell said peevishly. He seemed to consider it quite inexcusable that Strange was attracting such great attention regardless of the unhappy circumstance. “As to the darkness and other such remarks – ” Mr Norrell waved his hand fretfully. “These are magics of his own doing. And even if they are not, you cannot surely think yourself more skilled than he in handling them. There is no requirement for _your_ attention.”

Childermass frowned. “It does not sit easy with me to see him so abandoned.”

“Abandoned!” Mr Norrell cried. “Abandoned! Why, he has the attention of half of London and all of Venice!”

“And I do not believe any of them intend to do more than observe, sir, until he proves some greater harm to himself or to the city.”

Norrell ignored this. “Drawlight has gone,” he said resolutely. “Let us wait for his return, and if indeed his report suggests to me that some further action should be taken – ”

Childermass’s face darkened. “I will not wait upon the behest of Christopher Drawlight – ”

“No, it seems you are set upon performing whatever action you think best, regardless of my desires or instructions!”

Childermass waited patiently for the ugliness of Norrell’s shrill cry to fade from the darkened room, though it was obvious no greater happiness grew inside his master’s mind from this brief pause in their quarrel. When at last his question came, the softness of his voice was of dark moonlight and of spiders’-webs. “Have I given you cause to doubt me, sir?”

Norrell blinked his little eyes rapidly, and muttered indistinctly into the back of his hand that he was not entirely satisfied with Childermass’s services of late. That this was entirely the fault of Lascelles’s malicious contrivances and not by any means Childermass’s indolence seemed to have entirely escaped Mr Norrell’s attention, and to hear himself so rudely discussed was no small thing for Childermass to bear. But he had not served Norrell for so many years and to so many purposes without an intimate understanding as to how and when it was of no advantage for Childermass to challenge him.

“I have no great affection for Strange,” Childermass lied. “If it will make you easier, I will not go to Venice.”

Norrell slumped a little into his high-backed chair. He had, momentarily, the odd appearance of a marionette whose strings had been brusquely cut. “Of course you shall not go,” Norrell said with great relief, and indeed from the moment he spoke this sentiment carried the heavy enormity of his conviction; of course Childermass would not go. Childermass had been exceedingly silly to ever propose the notion. Norrell could now not believe they had wasted such a great length of time debating it, and became most eager to return to the studies which Childermass had seen fit to so foolishly disrupt.

The conclusion had never been quite so foregone to Childermass, and regardless of the easing of Mr Norrell’s conscience it still did not sit well with him to think of Strange alone in Venice friendless and unravelled. Although Mr Norrell had already returned to his books Childermass had thus not yet departed, and though his company had been for many years a great comfort to Norrell now (from his great twitching and tutting under-breath) it was causing him much grievance. “If Drawlight should not return – ” Childermass began, and Norrell threw down his pen with a great huff of anger and declared that he would hear no more on the matter until his queries may be discussed without such a plenitude of ifs and buts and whens. Until then, Childermass would serve him better by considering whether any other matters of Norrell’s household had also escaped his notice due to his apparent recent inattention – perhaps indeed Childermass should spend less of his time so concerned with the wellbeing of Mr Strange and more on Mr Norrell’s business.

In that moment Mr Norrell seemed so transformed into the image and voice of Lascelles that Childermass was greatly roused to anger. He had no great fondness for Norrell’s company of late, and his usefulness was dwindling indeed if Norrell planned to keep him thus excluded from his magical affairs at the advice of someone as odious as Henry Lascelles, but – as indeed he had remarked to Strange upon an earlier occasion – they had not quite seen the end of one another yet. He thus at first said no more at Norrell’s tirade, and decided at last to depart from him, with a view to better considering how he might approach Mr Norrell on a different occasion with Strange’s affliction in mind. But he was too sorely injured and too conscious of the danger in which Norrell placed himself on account of his trust in Lascelles to leave without one final remark at the expense of his enemy.

“Be careful of him, sir,” Childermass said. “I should think he does very little which does not ultimately serve his own ends.”

“Indeed,” muttered Mr Norrell offhand, already much occupied again with his reading, “while you yourself are the very image of selflessness and charity!”

Presently Mr Norrell was left quite alone again in the company of his books. But though he was thus quite happily placed into the situation most agreeable to him in all the world, his studies seemed to afford him no great comfort, for long after Childermass’s departure he would stare quite blankly at the corner of the drab watercolour situated above the mantle, a most nondescript and uninteresting piece, or fret and shuffle his notes without ever settling on whichever page he had thought to turn his attention to.

When Mr Norrell wished to sit up with his studies late into the night, the servants of his house would by a custom of their own devising – on the few occasions in which Childermass was otherwise indisposed or for whatever reason not to be found – alternate as to which of their number should wait up to ensure his needs were fully attended to until such time as he chose to retire. The duty on this chilly December night fell in turn to Lucas, who thus quietly entered Mr Norrell’s study at around one o’clock to tend to his master’s fire and enquire as to whether he required any further refreshments than the pot of tea and plate of seedcakes brought to him by Matthew two hours previous.

Lucas had thought nothing of Childermass quitting from the house directly some hours ago, for it was not uncommon that his duties and instructions from Mr Norrell required his immediate departure at any given hour of the night. He knew nothing of their disagreement, and indeed would not discover his master’s unease until several hours hence; but he did then note the peculiarity of Mr Norrell’s countenance, for he found him sat quite fixed at the window when given the lateness of the hour there could not be much to hold his attention in the street beyond.

Mr Norrell paid Lucas no mind as he attended to the fire, and answered his enquiry as to his subsequent refreshment with nothing more than the smallest of gestures to indicate his contentment. Lucas left his master thus occupied, and indeed there Mr Norrell remained for many hours after, until the small hours collected towards the morning and the first fresh brightness of the dawn touched upon the distant sky.

 

 

 

 

Childermass’s perceived perfidy sat very poorly with Mr Norrell, though he was perhaps alone in thinking it unlikely and unforeseen – indeed the dwindling few still in their shared company found themselves quite astonished that Childermass had not been yet hounded from Norrell’s side by the seemingly indefatigable Lascelles. Lascelles himself was most pleased to find upon attending on Mr Norrell one Michaelmas morning that the magician of Hanover-square had been thrown into a state of great agitation by the quarrel with his servant of the previous night, and indeed was a great deal more receptive to Lascelles’s ill-will towards him than would have arisen from any number of scandals he might have invented to further cultivate unease and hatred between them.

Lascelles thus endured Mr Norrell’s philippic with a great deal more patience and sympathy than he might previously have afforded it, and throughout Norrell’s sermon on the irascible cruelty and appalling treachery of his man-of-business Lascelles took great pains to ensure an expression of utmost compassion and to disperse Norrell’s brief pauses and glances with much tutting and sighing and murmuring under-breath. When Norrell was finally exhausted of his subject he threw himself most wearily into the smallest chair beside the fire – for there was on this December morning a bitter wind underfoot that plagued most cruelly on Norrell’s ageing limbs – and stared quite enraptured into the flames.

It became presently obvious to Mr Lascelles that Norrell had no intention of pursuing his current displeasure any further, which, being quite contrary to Lascelles’s own purposes, roused him to prompt the magician into further disagreement. He enquired lightly as to where Childermass might now be found; Norrell replied irritably that he did not know, that Childermass had departed on some errand at first-light and not yet returned, that Childermass had as ever made it his general habit to come and go as it best pleased him. Lascelles remarked most casually that it was certainly unusual for one’s servant to be afforded this great degree of independence, and surely Childermass’s unkind treatment of Mr Norrell of late must indeed largely derive from this grossly inflated sense of his own standing.

This gave Mr Norrell cause to break his vigil of the fireside and to briefly grant Mr Lascelles a most uncomfortable look. “He has been of very great use to me,” Norrell said, for he was seemingly determined to present something to Childermass’s defence; though by his twitching fingers and rapid eyes it gave him no small pain to do so.

“Indeed, I imagine he _has been_ ,” Lascelles said agreeably. “But your circumstances now are far removed from what they were – and you cannot think to tell me that Childermass will be of _very great use_ to you in the ballrooms and parlours of London! No; the question with which you must concern yourself – and do not think, sir, that I do not understand the very great service he has performed for you in the past, your many years of admirable acquaintance, and so on – but it is a thing which you must now consider above all else.”

Mr Norrell still gave his utmost attention to the fireside, and seemed in part to give no thought to the opinion of Mr Lascelles. But a great stillness had settled upon his form, and he held the very image of a man braced against the headsman’s axe. Lascelles himself thus sat unobserved, and for his purposes this was for the better; for though there remained a gentle kindness to his tone, a vast and glittering malice had emerged triumphant in his eye.

“Do you trust him?” asked Lascelles.

Mr Norrell did not answer. But Mr Norrell’s silence was condemnation enough.

“There are ways,” Lascelles continued, and his voice was the very embodiment of delicacy. “Should you truly wish to see him – removed.”

Mr Norrell did not interrupt. Lascelles saw no reason why he should not continue.

“That is to say – certain _accusations_ can be made, which if levelled against his character would ensure he could no longer move in the more respectable of circles – or indeed result in his incarceration, should it please you.”

Mr Norrell blinked rapidly. “Accusations?”

“Why, yes. A very great number of crimes can be attached to a person with hardly any evidence at all.” If Lascelles’s apparent great knowledge and authority concerning such an unfavourable subject was in any way displeasing to Mr Norrell, he made no sign of it. “Thievery, for instance. Or indeed adultery, if you would care to finance a willing accomplice. But by far the simplest and most effective are those of an... unnatural nature.”

Mr Norrell, to his credit, then looked exceedingly uncomfortable. His little eyes darted swiftly back and forth about the room, resting on every crook and cranny in turn before returning to the comfort of his fireplace. Lascelles bore this silence with seemingly unending patience – for indeed Norrell’s lack of outright indignation at his proposal had already induced a dull glint of victory to enter in his eye.

“I would not – I would not see him _hanged_ ,” Norrell said.

“Oh, I am sure it would not come to that,” Lascelles replied easily. “He will not be so foolish as to attempt to stay in England – indeed with Strange in Venice and he so clearly inclined to sympathise with him, I can think of no reason why he should want to.”

In his panicked state this did at first make quite good sense to Mr Norrell, though he would on later reflection wonder (quite accurately) whether Childermass would indeed quite so readily abandon all attachment to his native county of Yorkshire. With an unpractised and clumsy air of idle interest, Norrell enquired what precisely would be the manner in which they should best proceed should he so decide to fully consider the action.

“There would be no need for a trial,” Lascelles answered, and Childermass himself would have observed the swiftness and thoroughness of his supposedly unplanned response if he had been present. “The advantage of such an accusation above thievery and assault is that an allegation alone would suffice without further proof provided. Childermass is not a fool – he will not risk indictment. He will know that he stands little chance of good defence against such a likely accusation to his character.”

“A likely accusation,” thought Mr Norrell. “He means, of course, that Childermass is considered such a base fellow that unnatural crimes would be easily within his remit. But I have known him some twenty-seven years and have not known him to pursue any desire not in the direction of his education or his duty.”

“It will be swift and simple,” Lascelles finished thoughtfully. “One remark with regards to your suspicions to the right party would suffice.”

Mr Norrell blinked rapidly. “ _My_ suspicions?”

“The man is your intimate,” Lascelles replied in a tone of great surprize. “And to the rest of us quite unfathomable. I can think of no story as likely to be well-believed.”

Mr Norrell sat for a while in very great misery. The thought of some grand alliance between Childermass and Strange filled him with unfathomable fear; but he still would not readily accept the place in his ruin that Lascelles would ask of him. “ _He_ has betrayed _me_ ,” thought Norrell peevishly. “He would think to go to Venice when I need him here in London.” But even this was not sufficient as to persuade him.

“Of course,” continued Lascelles thoughtfully, “another man _could_ make an accusation. But Childermass has been in your employ and your company for so many years that I believe many would wonder how you could have been so ignorant of his habits. And if it should come to a questioning of your own involvement, it would not help your case that you have spent so many long years yourself unmarried...”

Mr Norrell paled considerably. “You cannot mean that they would think – !”

“I assure you that not much thought attends the adjudicators in such cases. Rather more important to all concerned is the reputation and good standing of the parties involved.”

This seemed to offer some passing comfort to Mr Norrell, though his brief lapse into silence was quickly marked by a harrowed expression and a swift darting of his eyes about the room as he perhaps recalled how poorly and how publically his character had suffered in the calamity of Strange’s book.

“I think it best not to leave such matters to chance,” Mr Norrell eventually replied.

Lascelles smiled briefly. “Indeed,” he said. “I thought you might see sense.”

 

 

 

_June 1817_

There was known to a very few a little path just to the west of Gilberdyke, a village of no great consequence except to the happy few who chanced to live there, for whom its pretty little lanes and brightly-dressed trees were a source of constant delight and pride. Down this path on a brisk evening at the height of midsummer rode Childermass on a handsome young stallion. It was only one of many ways into Faerie with which he had become recently acquainted, but it was the one which would take him closest to his destination.

He passed at length under the low-hanging branch of a rowan-tree, and upon his exiting on the farthest side gone were the loose-stoned lane and the sunlit trees of which the peoples of Gilberdyke were so proud. Where in England had been the pleasant rich glow of a summer’s eve, here there was naught but darkness reigning to each horizon; where in England had been the gentle arch of greenery at every side, here sprawled nothing more than a dismal stretch of dull brown marshland. It was truly a wretched and desolate place. In the distance rose sawtooth-cliffs like the jagged bones of some long-dead monster scattered upon the horizon, and it was towards these that Childermass rode without pause to check his compass or his bearings.

Presently Childermass came upon a thin, chattering beck bringing a little life and cheerfulness into his grim surroundings, though it had that hint of wickedness about it often seen in running water. He dismounted, located a broad-rimmed silver dish in his saddlebag, and took a little water from the stream with which to fill it. But before he performed his usual magic upon the water, he did a most peculiar thing: he made the smallest of cuts on his rightmost finger and held it briefly under the surface of the stream. This was a type of magic with which Norrell would once have looked upon most disdainfully; but Childermass was quite aware that in Faerie it was the utmost rudeness to make use of any such thing without granting some sort of payment in return. He did not think that the King’s shilling in his pocket would hold much worth here.2

This small thanks performed, Childermass returned to his task of consulting his little silver basin. Again the magic he performed was most peculiar, for he seemed not to inquire as to _where_ Mr Strange might be found, but _how_. Regardless of this peculiarity, after a moment Childermass seemed contented with his answer, for he smiled wryly and gently poured the little sum of water back into its homeland, and with a brief pause to fully blinker his horse Childermass rode on.

The silhouette of a house now appeared to have taken shape before him, but it was of a most unusual character – for at times it seemed a great, sprawling, Gothic abbey; at times it had the pretty character of a modest London house; and yet again it took on the look of a grand, handsome estate as found often in the great counties of Herefordshire and Shropshire. This did not seem to disconcert Childermass, who continued to ride towards its form without any hesitation; indeed, one would note on closer observation that Childermass was so confident in his endeavour as to have at some time closed his eyes.

In time the flickering image of the house shuffled through its variations once more, before settling upon the handsome façade of a London townhouse that occupants of that selfsame city would have once identified as belonging in Soho-square. Mr Strange, as his vision from the water of the pretty little beck had informed him, was to be found in his library. Faerie was in so many ways distinct from England, and its freedom with such rules as those observed and discussed by the great Physicists of England had allowed all of the two magicians’ properties to exist and not exist in largely the same spot; and in this manner, given the nature of the spell which still hung upon them that bound them into one another’s company, Strange was able to work in peace in his own library in Soho-square whilst Mr Norrell studied to his own inclinations in Hurtfew. This arrangement suited them very well, for whilst much of the great dispute between them had been now mended Childermass himself knew only too well how tiring having Mr Norrell as one’s constant companion could be.

On entering into the library Childermass found Strange sat in expectation of him beside the fire, his copy of Stukely open and subject to his idle attention. He wore his customary ironical smile as he contemplated the book, and the pages turned more rapidly than would denote Strange giving the work any serious study. It came as no surprize to Childermass that Strange had anticipated his arrival. Nor indeed that he evidently found Stukely quite diverting, for Norrell much favoured the work and Childermass would imagine that it had been handed to his companion with an exceedingly overwrought commendation of its merits.3 In truth it was a dull and lengthy volume of the type only enjoyed by Mr Norrell, and Childermass imagined that Strange had derived quite as much amusement from brief contemplation of the author’s tedious didactics and methodical technique as had Childermass on the sole occasion in which he once consulted the volume himself.

It thus gave him no great surprize that Strange swiftly abandoned his studies on the advent of better company. “How now, magician!” cried Strange. “Are you familiar with the works of Mr Stukely? I can see by your amusement that you are. To think there was a time I considered myself most abominably treated by not having access to such a volume!”

Childermass laughed, and said that he had come with another book in his possession he thought would endeavour to be far more worthy of Strange’s attention. But rather than producing from his saddlebag the heavy leatherback volume Strange had anticipated, he instead laid out upon the table two long rolls of paper, on which was sketched the likeness of a man, fore and aft. Mr Strange had in his possession already a great number of books concerned with anatomy, but the man shown here was all over covered with the most unusual and unearthly marks; and though Strange was now familiar with a great many languages, he could make no sense of them.

“It is the King’s, sir,” said Childermass. “Though I cannot truly say how it came to be.”

“Well!” said Strange, after some time in silent contemplation of the work. “I cannot pretend to understand it. What of the fellow you have drawn here? Is he dead?”

“Indeed not, sir – or at least he was still living yesterday, though with him that is no assurance that he will be so to-morrow. It was anyhow not a thing I felt easy to leave solely in his custody.”4

“You have made several copies?” asked Strange.

“But three,” said Childermass. “One lies here. Another is in the care of Mr Segundus, and though I do not expect him to fully understand what it is I have given him he is the sort of fellow whom I would happily trust with its safekeeping.”

Strange agreed Mr Segundus to be a worthy custodian of such a document, and thanked Childermass earnestly for allowing him access – though indeed he had no notion as to how he might endeavour to understand it. “It is, at any rate,” finished Strange with a little grin, “a great deal more engaging than the works of Mr Stukely – though I would not ever say as much to Norrell!”

“I do not think he would thank you for it,” agreed Childermass dryly.

It became then plain that this was the sole purpose of Childermass’s visit, for upon delivery of this charge he began immediately to ready himself for his departure. This seemed to somewhat perturb Mr Strange, for whilst he returned his attentions to the drawings upon his table they did not hold his eye for more than a very few seconds.

Presently Childermass was ready to make way, and this roused Strange to voice the question he had since been considering at length. “Do you intend to keep this from Norrell?” asked Strange. “I will hold it in strict confidence if you ask it of me.”

Childermass shrugged. “I do not imagine he would much care to see it,” he said. “But you should act as you think best. I have no lasting quarrel with him.”

This did not seem to comfort Strange; indeed a much greater frown now seized his countenance, and he appeared for some moments quite uncertain as how to best proceed. At length Childermass – who had resolved some time ago to continue on his way whenever possible – enquired as to whether there was some other issue troubling him.

For a great while Strange was quite unable to reply. “The circumstances of your departure – ” said Strange at last. “That is to say, I had wondered if you were entirely aware – ”

Strange then fell again into his peculiar silence, and cast about for some object with which to better explain his agitation. He settled for some time upon a sheaf of papers on his desk, and with a sorry little huff of breath seemed to reach at length his decision.

There was to be found amongst the papers a little letter written in Norrell’s familiar hand, and upon his retrieval of his quarry he presented it to Childermass most gravely. The letter was addressed to a Mr Perry of the _Morning Chronicle_ , and though of uncustomary brevity it described admirably well how Mr Norrell had been treated most abominably by a long-standing companion in his service, and how he wished most ardently that the editor should make the numerous and unnatural crimes of his associate known at once to the people of England, and how he fully intended to prosecute the man to the greatest severity that English law would allow him. Childermass’s name, and the names of several men in his acquaintance whom Norrell believed to be complicit in his actions, were then listed.5

The postscript enquired as to whether Mr Perry had given any more thought to his previous requests to take out advertisements for _The Friends of English Magic_.

“There was no direction,” said Strange. “There is nothing to say that it was ever sent, or indeed that others might have been.”

For some time Childermass did not reply, and gave his attention only to the letter. “The accusation is unfounded,” Childermass said at length. “But I do not blame the gentleman. This will not have been solely of his doing. And besides,” he added, handing the letter back to Mr Strange, “it did not come to pass.”

This gave Strange no apparent comfort; indeed he seemed to be still most distressed at the severity of this affront against the safety of his companion. “It may have done,” said Strange. “If you would consider it fitting for me to make an answer in your defence – ”

“I said it was unfounded, sir,” interrupted Childermass quietly. “But it was not wholly based on falsehoods. I doubt that it has been made public, and it is better for us all that it should stand untouched. No further enquiry would benefit me in any way.”

“Ah,” said Strange. “Quite.”

Childermass nodded briefly at Strange and returned to the matter of his departure, though perhaps with greater haste than previously. He had placed a heavier confidence in Strange in five minutes of discussion than in over five and twenty years in Norrell’s service, and he had no immediate desire to discover whether this had been a great error on his part – though he knew Strange was not well-situated to take advantage of this information should he wish to do so. Childermass did not sincerely think him capable of such villainy, for the man had always treated him with kindness. But in truth he would not have imagined that Norrell even in his grimmest and most desperate moments would stoop to such base methods, and yet here lay the evidence of his grave miscalculation clear before him.

“ _All magicians lie_ ,” thought Childermass. But here was Strange still stood before him, with naught but earnestness in his countenance.

Strange asked at length if Childermass intended to return to England. Childermass replied that he did not, and that he had no mind to return homewards for many years to come. “I thought it more likely to find a person capable of reading the King’s letters in Faerie than in England,” said Childermass. “And I have wished to find him all my life. It seems that I now may be able to service that ambition.”

“Do you know where you will go?” asked Strange.

“No; nor when I will think to return,” answered Childermass.

Childermass then passed a moment in quiet thought. At length he took an ivory-handled pocket-knife out from his bag and used it to cut off a little of his hair, which he then concealed in the folded quarter of a handkerchief. This would seem to many a most unusual enterprise, but it is a feature of the magic of seeking and finding that the search for an object passes almost indubitably well if one is in possession of some intimate item of one’s quarry.6

“But be sure to call me, sir,” said Childermass, as he dropped the kerchief into Strange’s open hand and granted him a warm and twisted smile. “Should you find yourself wanting of good company.”

 

 

 

* * *

1: A notable exception should be made for the occasion of Childermass’s fortieth birthday, in which unbeknownst to both him and his master his fellow servants acquired by their own pocket a good bottle of claret and a new garrick-coat. The former was seen to much more swiftly than the latter, which was still in Childermass’s possession upon his leaving Norrell’s service some years after.

 

2: In this action Childermass was perhaps undercompensated, and indeed if he were to return to this beck again he would find it most accommodating to his purposes – for in its mind it was still held in his debt. Other satisfactory payments would have included a small bird or mammal thrown into the river still living, or perhaps some item of minor intimate value to Childermass. The King’s shilling may indeed have held some worth as bullion, or in the time and skill taken to craft it, but water does not always respond well to the cold bite of metal and it was a wise decision of Childermass’s not to attempt to use it in payment (if indeed for a different reason).

 

3: Alasdair Stukely (c. 1570-?1639). A magician of no great practical skill, second only perhaps to Sutton-Grove in his fondness for list-making. Also a natural philosopher, his definitive work aside from the volume so derided by Strange and Childermass ( _De Terraris Inter Tartarum et Angliam_ (1607), a tedious and meticulously alphabetical work listing all mentions of placenames encountered by the author during his studies; though perhaps theoretically of some use, Stukely took far more pleasure in compiling all such names in one place than making them in any way practical to his reader, and he frequently neglected to give any information besides that of its appellation. On another occasion Strange remarked that he was certain he had visited ‘the Unhappy Mountain’ during a dismal summer of his childhood spent holidaying in Cumbria.) was a series of comprehensive volumes detailing the various types of slugs and worms fond of attacking his cabbages.

 

4: Indeed Vinculus’s situation at that time was not known to any man or beast, except for the unhappy mare he had found to bear him into Faerie. He was not seen in England for some months following Childermass’s departure, and there were many who thought this to be no coincidence, and that Childermass had either put an end to him or taken him along on whatever journey he himself had embarked upon. Vinculus was then found early one spring morning dozing beneath a laurel-tree near Basingstoke, at which point the magicians of England began very much to wish he had stayed wherever it was that he had seen fit to wander to.

 

5: These men were indeed genuine friends of Childermass, and if the trial had progressed further it would have come upon a very great deal of evidence to suggest that he had been intimately involved with a number of them. It was this abuse of his friends which roused Childermass into the greatest anger, and it was to the benefit of Mr Lascelles that he was already so occupied and thus beyond Childermass’s reach.

 

6: The certainty of discovery is compounded even further if the item is given by the quarry in good faith. It is a little-known piece of magic that would have aided Strange greatly in the search for his wife in the early months of 1817 had he known of its existence, but all the works concerning its practice were at that time under Norrell’s jurisdiction in the library of Hurtfew Abbey.


End file.
